


And I wonder if you'd take it slow

by Punk_B1rd



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Romance, Fluff and Smut, Nonbinary Character, Other, Robot/Human Relationships, Self-Esteem Issues, Shower Sex, Spark Sexual Interfacing (Transformers)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23355748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punk_B1rd/pseuds/Punk_B1rd
Summary: Friendship and flirting lead to shower shenanigans and admitted feelings.
Relationships: Swerve/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 72





	And I wonder if you'd take it slow

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most self indulgent thing I think I've ever written in my life. It took me a lot of struggle and soul searching to work up the guts to write this, and even more to post it. This piece means a lot to me, so please, be gentle. 
> 
> -Punk<3
> 
> P.S. If you didnt notice from the tags, Reader is nonbinary. Its mentioned a couple times they have a feminine upper half that they do struggle with. The rest of Reader's attributes is up to your imagination.

The first time he asks to join you in the wash racks, his plating is almost vibrating with nerves. He could tell that's where you were headed, considering you have an oversized towel under one arm (the smallest one they could find for you), and your bag of toiletries under the other. He masks his nerves well (aside from the slight rattling coming from his frame), with an easy smile and a strategically placed punch line, on the chance you tell him no.

But you don't. Your anxiety tells you you should, but you don't. 

"I don't know what you're hoping to find, but you're probably not going to find it," you tease back with your own strategic jests. It seems both of you have turned to humor as a means of protecting yourself.

He appears shocked silent for all of about a half second before his grin grows impossibly wider. 

"Oh I'm not looking, I mean, it's not like that ya know, I just figured you'd maybe like some company! Did I ever tell you about the time I pushed Tailgate's recharge slab into a completely different room while he was on it? Oh mech, you shoulda seen the look on his face when he woke up! He was all-"

You smile as you listen to his story. He falls into pace with you pretty easily considering he's nearly twice your height. Still, you pick up your pace a little bit so he doesn't have to walk so slowly. 

At this late hour(Galactic Standard Time, considering you're in space as and there isn't really a circadian rhythm to follow), the washracks are fairly empty, the only other mech occupying the farthest corner being Trailbreaker, though he seemed to be off in his own little world, scrubbing at his plating and humming a song to himself.

You pick a spot around the corner from the doorway, a little more secluded than most of the other spigots. You're not self conscious, it's just... yeah; you're self conscious. It's hard not to be when you're surrounded by massive alien robots and you're just...there in all your squishy, fleshy glory. Even without being surrounded by titans, maybe there’s some body image issues there. Whatever. Just don't think about it

It's hard to not feel awkward as you start your usual routine of shedding your layers as you flick the spigot on and give it a chance to warm up to a temperature your squish will tolerate. 

Swerve picks the spot next to you, pulling what looks like a steel wool scrubber and a soap bar from his subspace. 

You notice he's doing his best not to stare as he continues to chatter on about different perfectly executed pranks he's pulled off, but since when has Swerve ever been good at not staring? Since never.

You swallow your nerves as you shed the last of your clothing, setting them far enough away so they wont get wet as you step under the warm spray of the cleanser (mostly water with a few little degreasing additives, Ratchet had confirmed it was safe for you to bathe in, as long as you didn't ingest any of it).

You didn't realize Swerve's chatting had slowly fizzled out until his talking startles you, causing you to almost slip and fall and die from embarrassment. (God, you could just see it now, the slow motion of your body hitting the metal floor like a cube of jello falling and jiggling dramatically.) 

"You know, I thought it was just a sexually driven media thing. You guys really do take everything off to bathe, huh?" He noted, standing under his own spigot, still stealing glances at you as he did his own thing, lathering up the plating on his arms and taking special care to wash the spokes of the wheels that made up his shoulders. 

"Uh..yeah. We do. Kinda necessary to be able to...wash everything." You keep your side facing him, your elbows tucked in tight in a sad attempt to shield your chest. But you still need to bend down to reach your blasted shampoo bottle.... Which you, in your infinite wisdom, had placed on the ground between your space and his. After briefly contemplating the best way to reach down to grab it, you decide that as quickly as possible is the best way, and with as much speed and grace as you could muster, bend at the waist and snatch up the bottle. 

You both decidedly ignore the strange little stalling sound his engine makes.

He reaches up to pull the extendable part of the spigot down to rinse out the grooves of his plating, starting in on another story about the time he'd seen Magnus get drunk and start giggling...and then sobbing. 

"Whatever it was it was terrifying. And that was after I thought I'd killed him!" For a split moment you forget all about your self consciousness and give a little giggle, picturing the no nonsense Ultra Magnus reduced to an emotional mess after imbibing a literal truckload of booze.

You squeeze your usual amount of shampoo out of the bottle and start lathering up. His constant stream of chatter has started to fizzle out again as he seems to take great interest in your hair and your methods for washing it. His visor prevents you from knowing where exactly he's looking, but you still swear you can feel his gaze wandering your body (considering you have to bring your arms up to rinse your hair and can no longer cover your chest.)

Finally it all seems to come to a head as you snap a little. You don't mean to, but your frayed nerves make it just a little difficult not to.

"Are you gonna just stare the whole time or do you wanna touch too??" 

You had meant it somewhat chastisingly, but the way his visor flashes and his servos pause, he's taken your rhetorical question seriously.

"Can I?" He asks.

Shit...

You only have yourself to blame for this predicament. I mean really, what did you expect?

You purposefully take your time to finish rinsing shampoo out of your hair as you contemplate what you want. Do you...want him to touch you? You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about it before, watching the deftness of his servos as he mixes drinks and washes drinking glasses when you visit his bar.

"Do you want to?" You finally ask, turning to look at him as you wring the last of the suds out of your short, choppy hair. You already know the answer, but your anxiety demands you ask anyway. It growls in your ear that you should make absolutely sure he wants to touch the wet soggy trash pile that is your body.

His eager little nod is enough to temporarily silence that particular anxiety demon. "I mean, well, if you don't mind. Don't have much experience, you know, touching humans. Uh... I know you guys are weird about your hair but... Can I touch it? You have less of it than most humans do. Why is yours so short? Does it only grow that long?" He inches his way forward as he talks, his nerves causing subtle wavers in his voice.

"Uhh…. Yeah...you can touch it. Just...be careful.” You drop your arms to your sides, resisting the urge to fold them across your chest defensively, “It's short because I cut it off. Easier to take care of that way and.. I like how short hair looks....." You trail off as he slowly kneels down to your level, joining you under the warm spray of cleanser as he reaches a servo out to trace a digit from your temple, following the curvature of your scalp, down to the back of your neck. You involuntarily shudder and he withdraws his hand quickly. 

"Sorry, are you ticklish..??" He asks, and you shake your head. 

"Kinda. It's just...sensitive." You shrug. "You can keep going."

He nods, but seems even more hesitant. Whether it's impatience or wanting to reassure him, you reach up to take his servo and bring it back up to your head, guiding his digits into your short, wet locks.

He gives a nervous laugh when you guide his servo through your hair, his nervous chattering starting back up. 

"It, well, it feels a little more..different than what I expected. Of course it's wet so that might affect things, right? It's- its doesnt always feel like this right? I've heard human hair is soft and wow... its soft. Like, really soft. Crazy soft. Is it softer when it's not wet? Does all hair get darker when it's wet? Yours did. It looks brown now and normally its lighter. Like, almost rust colored? I mean, not in a bad kinda way. Good rust? No, wait. Yeah. I mean basically. It's rust colored in a neat way. I like it."

You can't help but smile a little despite your nerves. "I know what you mean. Good rust." You agree quietly. Your hair is one of the things you appreciate the most about yourself. Its unique even among your own species. 

Among aliens, you're a bit of a unicorn. Most have never even seen a human, let alone one with blue 'optics' like them and hair colored like rust. And that's not even counting the constant inquiries about the rust 'spots' that litter your arms and shoulders and face. You've gotten used to having to reassure metal titans that you are in fact, fine, and you do not have a rust infection.

You're pulled from your thought train when one of his servos continues it's way from your hair to trace lightly around the shell of your ear and down your neck to touch your collarbone. You gasp, and your hand reaches up to grab his. 

"W-wait a second..." You mumble, heat flaring across your cheeks as your body starts to respond to his curious touches…

He freezes, frowning with concern. 

"Did I hurt you? I didn't think I-" He starts to stammer as you squeeze his servo in your hand. 

"No. I'm fine. I'm just..." You pause, trying to figure out how the fuck to tell him you might be starting to enjoy his touches a little too much without outright saying it. 

No. Stop. Think about this. What's the worst case scenario if you tell him you like the way he touches you? 

You steal a glance up at him, his visor bright and his helm tilted in concern as he waits for you to tell him what's up. The worst case scenario is losing one of your only close friends... Is risking grossing him out worth it..? 

Your anxiety monster has returned with a vengeance, throwing up lightning fast images of him reeling back, yanking his servo from your grip and with an awkward laugh, saying something that would most definitely shatter what's left of your heart and leave you to watch the pieces get swept away with the cleanser and sucked down the drain.

"Uh...hey...are you okay? I can stop. It's no biggie at all. I don't want to hurt you or do anything like that..." He curls his digits around your hand, giving it a shockingly gentle return squeeze. That's what compels you to finally speak up.

"I'm okay, Swerve. I promise. But...you need to know…" You pause and suck in a deep breath, "I like... I want you to touch me. Just like you were. It feels good. Really good." You force yourself to speak up over the hiss of the spigot above you both. "I'm just...enjoying this..maybe a little too much. I don't-," You bite you lip, searching for words, "I didn't want you to be unaware that I'm... yeah. It's probably doing more for me than it is for you." You shrug and try to give a laugh but it comes out as more of a strangled....something that wasn't a laugh. 

The heat of the cleanser raining down on you both doesn't seem to be warm enough to stop the chill that your anxiety has placed at the center of your core. You can only stand there and pray to whatever deity folks worship on this side of the galaxy that your anxiety doesn't prove itself correct, like it has in the past.

"Oh…" His response is short but full of realization. Whether it's the good kind of the bad kind, you can't quite tell, considering you can't bring yourself to make eye contact. 

Before you let yourself do or say something stupid, you turn away and shove your head under the spray, wetting your hair again and getting ready to finish your shower. Your hair might be short, but it still needs conditioning, considering the degreasing agents in the cleanser tends to strip most of the natural oils from your hair. 

"I- it's kind of a funny thing, you see." He starts talking again and you don't make any acknowledgement that you heard him...yet. Where is he going with this..? 

"I don't know, I'm sure I'm not the only one. Some of the others talk about it, about you, but I...your chassis is so-… It's… every time you walk into my bar I just want to-... When you look at me, I feel like I can't move. You look at me and I-.. I don't want you to look anywhere else." He's rambling, his voice sounding slightly more and more panicked the longer you let him continue. Not that you let him continue for long. No… You're already weak for this bright ray of sunshine that greets you every time you walk into his bar at the end of a long day. Listening to him spill his guts over the hiss of cleanser is more than enough to spur you into action.

You turn and take advantage of his still kneeling position, standing on your tiptoes to grab the ridges of his helm (he may be small for his species, but he still outweighs and out masses you significantly, so good luck trying to pull him anywhere), and tilt your head up to press your lips to his. 

Metalmesh is soft… but your lips are softer and have much more give than his do. His engine makes that stalling sound again, but his servos still touch along your sides before resting there, their size allowing him to cup your entire hip, his fingertips definitely resting on the curve of your ass. That's...something. 

He angles his helm slightly and meets your pressure with his own, eliciting a soft sigh from you (you've never been particularly noisy when it comes to pleasure. Unless its food, but that's a whole different story.). 

You start to let your hands slide down the cabling of his neck when another voice startles the everloving shit out of both of you, forcing you apart for a moment. 

"At least wait until I leave before you guys start tradin' paint. Jeez…." Trailbreaker grumbles, a massive towel slung over his pauldrons as he thumps past, making a beeline for the door and most likely out into the drying stations.

You both watch him leave with matching deer-in-headlights expressions. Seems you'd both forgotten you weren't alone in the wash racks. Well… Trailbreaker wasn't one for gossip and he didn't seem like the kind of mech to freak out about a little interspecies romance, so aside from a little awkwardness later, there probably wasn’t much to worry about. 

"Can't believe I forgot he was still in here. Haha, oops. I don't think he'll go yappin' about it to everyone, so uh… maybe ya wanna...keep going?" He sounds hopeful, and honestly that's where you were headed too. 

"Yup." You nod and hook your fingers into his chest plating, giving a pointed tug. He gets the hint and sidles closer under the still warm spray of the spigot you were using. 

You tilt your head up as he tilts downward, accidentally bumping his nasal ridge on your way to his mouth. You can't help the awkward giggle that escapes you and you can feel his smile against your lips. 

"Oops." He mumbles against your mouth teasingly. You curl your fingers into his plating, as if you could hold him there, and move forward to press your wet skin to his plating. His engine gives another strange hiccup before revving up, the vibrations traveling through your whole body. His servos tighten on your hips and one dares to slide across your skin, tracing the delicate curve of your spine upwards to the base of your neck. 

"P…primus...how are you this soft 'n smooth…? Just wanna...touch you...everywhere…” He continues to talk against your mouth as he touches along your slick, wet skin. 

Right now you’re feeling more like you’re floating in space than you have in all the time you’ve actually spent in space. Your head feels full of air and you’re pretty sure it’s not healthy the way your heart thumps erratically against your chest. 

He doesn’t seem to be faring much better, his internal cooling fans kicking on with a soft drone, the warm air blowing from his vents feeling cool against your wet skin. His servos tremble occasionally, but his touches grow bolder, the one at your waist giving a tentative squeeze while the other touches along your shoulder and then back down your side to follow the subtle grooves of your ribcage. He can’t go too far, considering you’re pressed tightly against him, feeling the subtle oscillations of his fans against your skin. 

His plating is warm and strong against you, temporarily reminding you of your...squishiness. Your anxiety threatens to rise up through the cloud of warmth and pleasure occupying your brain, but his servo at your waist dips slightly to grip your upper thigh and there’s no mistaking the soft noise that escapes his vocalizer. 

It’s a sound of unrepentant approval and desire, and christ above if that doesn’t do something funny to your insides… You grip his plating, your fingers slipping against his smooth metal as you try your best to seek out sensitive circuitry beneath his armor. 

His mouth slips from yours and falls to the crook of your neck and shoulder, his lips brushing feather light across your skin as he speaks up again, sounding breathless and slightly staticy around certain consonants. 

“This...this is okay, right..? I’m not doin’ anything too rough or- or too… I don’t know. You’re just… wow. I know I’m talkin’ too much but I- you… I-I thought for sure someone else woulda snatched you up… but you’re here… with me. You’re here with me and this- this here is crazy..! I didn’t think you’d… want this…I’m not… there’s bigger…’n better mechs-...’M just...the idiot that cracks jokes an’ gets in the way...” 

“Swerve…” You murmur, your fingers locating bundles of wiring deep in the crevices of his plates. Pressing your fingertips into the bundles causes a static hazed groan to bubble up from his vocalizer and he presses even closer. His servo at your hip has slipped around the small of your back as he holds you against him now. Not that you’re complaining. Fuck no. 

His mouth seals against your neck, sucking the moisture and droplets of cleanser from your skin. You’re finding it increasingly difficult to form words, but this is important. He has to know why you’re here, why he’s here with you…

“I don’t care about bigger ‘n better…I want this… I’ve wanted..this. Wanted you. Just you.” You admit breathlessly against his audial. “Wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t.” 

His arm around you pulls you just a little closer and your feet are almost off the ground now, but you barely notice. You’re too busy sliding your hands down along the seams of his chest armor, digging them into the slats of his vents and hooking your fingers. He gives a weak little sound into your neck and his frame shudders against you. 

You’d be lying if you said you had any idea what you were actually doing. You didn’t even like being intimate with your own species and your knowledge on intimacy with Cybertronians was severely lacking as well, but the sounds he made and the way he moved made you feel like you were probably doing it mostly right. 

“Swerve…” You breathe against his audial, arching your body and feeling the ridges of his wet plating slide erotically against your skin. His cooling fans immediately click into a higher gear and his servo at your back presses your in tighter, increasing the friction between you. 

The surrounding steamed air feels heavy and charged as it rests over the top of you both like an oversized blanket, effectively blocking out the rest of the world. Ultra Magnus himself could waltz right in and neither of you would probably notice. 

“I...I don’t have… the right equipment...t-to interface with a human…” Swerve manages to separate his mouth from the massive mark he’s already left on your neck, and he sounds almost drunk.

“Wh….what..?” You ask dumbly.

“Interface...equipment…” He repeats, equally dumbly. 

It takes you several moments to hash out what he’s trying to say. When you do realize it, you draw back until you can catch his visor with your eyes. 

“Oh…! No no…. You don’t need any equipment.” You shake your head, tilting your head to kiss at the corners of his mouth.

“But...isn’t that…-?” He starts and you shake your head again.

“You’re right. It is… but I’m not normal. I don’t like humanoid...equipment. I can explain more later...but trust me. This is perfectly fine. You have two hands, don’t you? I’ll show you what I like if you show me what you like first. But we should move this to your quarters. How ‘bout that, hm?” You smile and slide your hands up to his upper shoulder vents, slipping your wet fingers along the grooves of them.

For once he doesn’t seem capable of forming words, as he gives a dazed little nod. 

It feels like an impossible feat to separate yourself from him and he seems to feel the same way as he leans down to steal several more kisses from your lips as you pull away to turn the spigot off and grab your towel to dry off. 

You’ve never thrown on clothes so fast in your life. You’re still mostly damp from your half assed drying off job, but a quiet little voice in your head reminds you, you won’t be in those clothes for very long… 

Swerve manages to steal one more kiss before speeding off to the drying racks. By the time you catch up to him, he’s dry, in his alt mode, and the passenger door thrown open for you. 

The short trip to his quarters is spent in a very heavy silence. 

When you both arrive at his quarters, you step out and let him transform. Neither of you bother to see if there’s anyone in the hallway to witness you both disappear inside his quarters. 

He locks the door and without a word you reach up to grasp his servo and pull him towards his recharge slab. His face is flushed bright blue, but he follows you, sitting back when you push against his plating, letting you guide him back until he’s sitting back on the recharge slab with his back resting against the wall.

Considering you’re human sized, it’s easy for you to stand up on the berth and strip off your now damp clothes, throwing them aside. You don’t give yourself a chance to feel self conscious again as you step forward and clamber into his lap, straddling his thick waist as best you can with your legs. 

“You still okay?” You ask, bringing your hands up to cup his face and hold him still as you leaned in to kiss him. 

“Yeah...I-I’m great. Good. Very good. Very very very very very good.” He nods, giving a sheepish smile, returning the kiss and pulling you in deeper. Lips meld to metalmesh and you once again feel the world melt away around you both. 

Your kisses become deeper and your hands slip down to find those sensitive bundles of wiring in his shoulder joints and in the seams of his chest plating, making him arch and squirm. 

His servos boldly roam your body from your shoulders down to your ankles, touching and squeezing here and there, seeming to try and find your sensitive spots. You realize he’s quickly discovered some of his own favorite places to touch and grasp. Those places being your thighs, waist and hips, with how frequently his servos return to those spots. 

You appreciate that he seems to take no interest in your chest at all outside of tracing the grooves of your ribs and following the lines of your collarbone to your shoulders. You’ve...had a love/hate relationship with that part of yourself for a while now.

You slip your hands up to touch along the thick cabling of his neck. “Show me...what you want…” You lean forward to whisper into his audial and his fans kick into a higher gear as he nods, biting his lip. The flush on his face has gotten deeper and you wonder just how long it’s been since he was last intimate with someone… 

One of his servos leaves it’s spot at your back and reaches up to take one of yours, bringing it towards his chest as the plating there starts to fold and slide back into itself..

You know what’s happening, but you still can’t believe it when it happens. 

You’ve only ever seen diagrams of it in anatomy datapads you flipped through while trying to learn more about your crewmates and their anatomy.

But there it is, nestled perfectly beneath the layers of circuitry and plating of his chest. His spark pulses and spins quickly in it’s crystal, the light it gives off bright enough to make you squint at first, but once your eyes adjust, all you can do is stare. It’s...beautiful. Beautiful, barely contained orb of pure energy and fantastic light… 

He speaks so quietly you almost miss it. 

“...touch… touch me.”

You blink and break your gaze from his spark to look up at him. His visor is locked onto your face and his lips are barely parted as he watches you watch him. 

You watch him back for only a moment before letting your eyes fall upon his spark again. You still have no idea what you’re doing, but his soft plea encourages you to continue. With one hand braced on the lip of his parted chestplates, you reach out with your other hand towards the vibrant, swirling blue light. 

Your fingertips bump the edge of the protective crystal structure and he gives a twitch.

Before you can ask, he speaks up. “I-it’s okay. I’m okay, just...keep going.”

The desperation and need in his voice is almost palpable and you feel your chest hitch as you forget how to breathe for just a moment.

You suck in a deep breath and nod as you slowly let your hand explore the softly pointed ridges of each facet of the beautiful crystal beneath your fingertips. Your touch travels outward from the center until your touch meets the outer ring where crystal meets metal and circuitry, eliciting a soft whimper from his vocalizer. You let your touch trace the outer ring of his spark chamber before splaying your fingers to press your entire palm to the crystal, feeling it’s gentle warmth seep into your skin.

His frame creaks as he barely suppresses a shudder with another small moan. His servo at your back is trembling now, and the other one has slipped up to cover his own mouth.

“Good..?” You whisper, tilting your head to look up at him. His visor is still focused on you as he gives the subtlest of nods. 

“...okay…” You breathe back and dip your head back down. “Does...the crystal open..somehow?”

He can’t seem to suppress the groan that escapes through his digits. 

“Yeah...just...just a second.”

It takes a few moments and you can tell he’s working up the nerve. After a little while, what feels like a sigh of letting go huffs from his vents and the crystal slides aside with the softest of clicks. 

Neither of you know if it’s safe. It’s probably not and Ratchet’s going to end up being pissed. But your fucks to give have flown out the nearest airlock and you don’t hesitate. You reach out and watch your fingers plunge into the depths of his core. 

“O-oh Primus…!” His servo at his mouth flies down to clutch at the edge of the berth hard enough that his knuckle joints creak and the one at your back tightens and squeezes you closer, trembling harder now.

The light eddies and swirls around the points of contact, and you can feel the electricity radiating through your hand and up your arm. It’s hot, but not burning and definitely nowhere near cold. 

But your heart is still thumping against your chest, so you continue. You curl your fingers and feel them drag against tangible fibers of energy. You spread your fingers again and press deeper, feeling the fibers grow tighter and more resistant the closer you get to the center. 

“Wow.” You whisper as he arches up, a hiss of nothing but rough static bubbling from his vocalizer. 

You can only assume that’s a good sign as you continue to pluck along the tightly wound fibers of light and energy that make up his spark. His core...his very center. Every memory, every emotion, at the mercy of your fingertips. 

The vulnerability of it all hits you for a moment and leaves you breathless. 

But you don’t stop. Fuck no. You haven’t felt this right about something in years and you want him to know just how much this means to you. You curl your fingers again, this time using your fingernails to pluck and tug against the fibers of light. 

Through the burst of garbled static you draw from him, he manages to utter your name. You hear it and it’s unmistakable. 

You bite your lip and try not to lose focus as your rake your fingernails as firmly as you dare through his spark, stirring up the swirls of energy. You draw your hand back and then spread your fingers as you shove it back into the swirling depths of that beautiful spark, going deeper than you have before. 

He moves so quickly he catches you off guard, his hand leaving it’s iron grip on the berth to cup the back of your head and draw you upwards, his lips crashing against yours, desperate and sloppy. 

Energy crackles against your skin and you feel his entire body lock up. His engines scream and his cooling fans roar as he hits his overload. You’re trapped against him as he rides out the waves of sensation and pleasure running rampant through his sensornet. 

After a few moments, he starts to relax, his helm lolling back to rest against his kibble and his arm falling limp at his side, the other one still resting comfortably at your back. His cooling fans still blast heat from his vents, but his engine RPMs have dipped back down into a more reasonable purr.

You slowly withdraw your hand from his spark and watch as the protective crystal clicks back into place. Another few seconds of silence pass and slowly, his chestplates start to slide and knit themselves back together. 

His visor is dim and his jaw hangs slack, but you get the feeling that he’s still watching you. 

With nothing else to do, you wait until his chestplates finish locking back into place before making yourself comfortable, leaning forward to lay across his chest and bring your knees around so your legs kick out to one side, his servo resting heavily against your hipbone. 

You both lay like that for a long while… both processing and listening to the sounds of his fans as they gradually slow down as his frame cools.

You’re the first one to break the silence.

“I don’t want this to be just a fluke. I want… I want to do this again. I’ve noticed the way you look at me when I go to your bar. I like the way you look at me. I don’t know if this is going to work but fuck I want to try. I want this. I want us.” You lay it all out on the table. Better to get it all out there. 

The servo at your waist squeezes lightly. 

“I want that too. This thing...what happened… It was amazing. Better than I imagined. I don’t know how much it did for you but, for me it...yeah. I wanna keep going. I want you to hang out with me at my bar and I want you to be mine and I want people to know you’re not...you’re... “

“You want people to know I’m taken? That I’m yours?” You supply and he nods, a happy little smile tickling the corners of his mouth. 

“It probably won’t change how many mechs try to flirt with you. Hell, it’ll probably make it worse. I don’t know." He shakes his helm, giving a little frown there, before his smile returns, "I just… I still can’t believe this is real. You’re here, with me. In my hab, in my lap.” 

“Better than you imagined… have you imagined this before?” You ask and the little grin crosses his face before he can try to hide it. 

“A couple times.” He admits. 

“Well I’m glad it was better than you imagined, because I’ll be real with you. I had no idea what I was doing.” You grin and shrug and he laughs, the sound of it warm and beautiful. 

“That’s part of what made it so amazing though! I wish I could describe it to you, but I don’t think I could. I don’t think there’s words that have been invented in either of our languages to describe it.” His talkativeness is back and the air between you both is lax and warm. 

You press a little closer and rest your head against his chest, listening to him try to combine words and laugh at his own wonky word combinations. 

Yeah… you could get used to this. 

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> I've read too many character/reader fics and whenever authors describe their reader, I never felt like I fit into that general mold, male or female. So I decided to make my own where I do fit in. 
> 
> I'm also asexual and wanted a romance/sex scene that wouldn't squick me out. I prefer sex scenes that are more about feelings and exploration of self and each other, which is why I feel like I love robot/human relationships so much. 
> 
> I'm gay trash and Halsey's Beautiful Stranger is the theme music (and the inspiration for the title) for this trashfic. Sorryyyy.


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